


What To Expect

by kikicecchetti



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daddy Dean, F/M, Romance, Second Person, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikicecchetti/pseuds/kikicecchetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean is kicked out of Lisa's house when the one year anniversary of Sam's death looms, he moves into an apartment in a new town, the apartment next to yours. As you get to know him, you try to give him the life he never had. And you succeed in giving him the one thing he never thought he could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What To Expect

He rolls into town completely unexpected and without much fanfare, taking a small apartment above a Chinese restaurant; the apartment right next to yours.

You secretly watch as he goes about his life in this new town. He goes to bars, chats up a different woman, and brings her home almost every night. You prefer to stay in, curled up with a book. But you find that every time you hear the roar of that 1967 Chevy Impala's engine, your eyes shoot to the window, where you see the man exiting the car across the street.

After two weeks, you run into him in the hall. You've just put your key in the door knob as you hear the clinking of bottles and heavy steps coming up the stairs. You try not to look interested, but once you give him a glance, your stomach tightens and you feel a flush spreading across your cheeks. 

In his plastic bag are several bottles of whiskey and in his other hand, he gingerly balances what looks like an apple pie. As he looks you up and down, clearly impressed, you muster up the courage to speak. "I'm sorry I haven't gotten a chance to come welcome you to town." You extend your hand. "I'm Rachel."

With a firm grip, and a ghost of a smile that doesn't touch his eyes, he nods. "Dean," He says. "Dean Winchester."

You both stand there awkwardly, Dean trying to keep his face somewhat composed, but it just turns to an obvious dejected expression. Without thinking you speak. "When's the last time you had an actual meal?" Your eyes glance to the bag in his hand.

Dean sighs and shakes his head. "Never was really one for the family dinner." You can hear a strength when he mentions his family, but it is also filled with a pain and sadness that you can't even comprehend.

"Come on," You say, swinging open the door to your apartment. "Dinner's on me." Dean hesitates, looking at his pie and whiskey. "Pie is not a real dinner," You chastise lightly with a smile. "And drinking is allowed. I insist." Walking into your apartment, you set down your purse on the couch and continue to the kitchen. 

You look back and see Dean hesitating in the threshold. He's looking around like this is the first time he's seen a home. "Come on," You encourage. "Can you cut this onion for me?"

*****

It's a week before you see Dean again, and he looks like he's been on a bender ever since the last time you were together. He stumbles to your doorstep, drunk off his mind and ends up passing out on your couch after you feed him another home cooked meal. Even when you hear him cry out in his sleep, you don't ask what's wrong. You don't ask who Sam is.

********

After that, you see Dean most days. And he has his good and bad ones. Dinner has become almost a nightly tradition, you even settle for the take-out that Dean occasionally shows up with. You actually quite like watching him eat a cheeseburger. You find yourself looking forward to the dinners, and for over a month, you feel the happiest you've felt in a long time.

When Dean disappears for a few days, the Impala still parked on the street outside of the apartment, you begin to worry. You miss the conversation and Dean's company while delectable smells waft from the kitchen as you cook. You miss the smiles on Dean's face as he encounters meals that he's only ever had in diners and restaurants.

You wish you had asked him about himself, but even the slightest attempt to get to know who Dean Winchester truly is were immediately deflected.

Staring at the Impala through the kitchen window, the timer on the stove beeps and you reach for the oven mitts. The moment you open the oven door, a sweet, cinnamon smell overwhelms your senses and you pull out the hot apple pie.

After letting it cool, you get up the courage to knock on Dean's door. It takes a while for him to answer, and the haggard face with a few days of scruff hits you squarely in the chest. His green eyes are vacant, and he reeks of whiskey.

"Apple pie," You say as you extend your hands to him. His face is drawn, like he hasn't eaten in a few days. "Let me cut you a slice." And you push your way into his apartment without any protest from him.

Dean's apartment is virtually empty. A thread-bare couch sits in the centre of the living room, an ancient television on a table a few feet away. You don't see any photos or personal effects, except the empty beer bottles and take-out containers. 

In the kitchen, you cut a hefty slice of pie for Dean who remains silent. You don't prompt him for any information. When you set the plate in front of him, he stares at the piece of pie for a long moment. His brow furrows and his face winces as if he is feeling physical pain.

Fingering the pendant on the necklace around his neck, he takes a deep breath and begins eating.

After devouring three slices of pie, you retire to the living room and take a seat on the couch. "Are you okay?" You ask without looking at him. He ponders the question for a moment, as he knocks back the last of the whiskey in his tumbler. "We've known each other for over a month, Dean. You come over all the time. You can talk to me."

Dean wipes his face, trying to keep his composure. "It's been a rough few days," He finally says, still not looking at you. "It's probably better if you leave." 

That hurts, but when he says it, you finally realise that you have real feelings for him, maybe even bordering on love. "No," You say firmly, placing a hand on his thigh in assurance. "You're going to tell me what's eating you up inside."

Dean finally looks at you and you can see tears swimming in his vivid green eyes. "It's been a year," He chokes out. "And I'm still fucking angry." Tears fall onto his face, and you let him continue. "It's my brother. He died a year ago. He was all I had, and he fucking threw it away." His words are heart-wrenching as his voice wobbles and cracks. "Sam was it for me. Now that he's gone, I've got nothing."

He protests slightly when you put your arm around him, but the moment you pull him close, his body collapses and you feel his tears on your shoulder. You don't ask any questions, in fact, you don't say anything at all. You just let him cry.

 

After a few minutes, Dean seems to have composed himself, and he pulls away and regards you intensely with his red rimmed, blood-shot eyes. He leans his head forward, and unexpectedly presses his lips against yours.

His hands move to the back of your neck as his desperate kiss lingers on your mouth. Uncharacteristically, you surrender yourself to the kiss and wrap your arms around Dean's muscular body. 

So much goes unsaid, and yet it's all understood. You care. Truly and fully care about this man you've only known for six weeks. He has nothing, and into your kiss you imbue acceptance, comfort and....was it love?

Dean's hands wander to your waist, and you feel him shift in your direction on the couch. His mouth tastes of whiskey and cinnamon, and the combination intoxicates you. As he lays you down, you feel almost drunk with desire. And Dean has you on that ugly, mustard yellow couch.

*********

You learn more about Dean as time goes by. He's taken to sleeping at your apartment most nights, and the first time he wakes from a nightmare, he pulls you close and you learn the first thing about Dean from his old life.

"Do you trust me?" You ask as you wipe the sweat from his brow. He is trembling slightly. He nods unwillingly, as if trusting someone was a weakness, something to be avoided. "Then tell me." He tries to pull away from your embrace, but you hold him tighter. "It's eating you up inside. Tell me."

Dean turns away and faces the wall, you hook your foot around his ankle just to show that you're not going anywhere, whether he wants to talk or not. Just as you're falling asleep, you hear his voice.

"This is going to sound crazy," He begins, still facing the wall, "And I wish it were. God-damn I wish that this wasn't real, but it is." He tells you everything.

A hunter. Demons, angels, monsters, and his brother. He tells you of the deal he made, to save his brother. He skirts around details of his time in hell, and how he was saved by an angel. He talks of the Apocalypse, and how it was averted, with the loss of his brother to Lucifer. You can feel your heart aching for him.

You run your fingers over the red handprint branded into his left shoulder and see it completely differently when you realise that it was the physical imprint of an angel.

Dean takes your hand under the covers and you whisper softly, "Well, you have me now." You fall asleep with Dean's hand still in yours.

********

Another month passes as you become even more accustomed to the ex-hunter's presence in your life. Dean gets home around six from his job as a mechanic, and you love the look on his face when you have a meal cooked for him.

He's told you more about his life as a child, the death of his mother and the vagabond life he lived due to his father's vengent obsession, so you honestly enjoy giving him the experience of a stable home. 

As the month draws to a close you realise that you haven't had your period. 

A doctor's visit the next day confirms it. You are six weeks pregnant.

Initially, you are scared and nervous. Dean is wonderful, and you love him in a way that you thought only existed in fiction, but what if he didn't want a life with you. What if this was going to send him running away?

You tell him during dinner one night. 

"So, I had a doctor's appointment on Monday." Dean nods, his mouth full of the green bean casserole you made. "AndI'mPregnant." It literally comes out as one word. 

Dean drops his fork as his eyes widen. You feel like you are going to cry; he's going to freak out. "Really?" He asks, his tone unreadable. You nod as your eyes fill with tears.

He stands and almost runs to your side of the table. "What's wrong?" He asks, stroking your hair. "I'm going to be a Dad." He says with a hint of pride to his tone. "I never thought that would happen for me."

He places a kiss on your belly, and follows it up with one on the lips. "I love you." He says, looking you straight in the eye.

********

Being pregnant sucks, but as your belly expands and you see Dean's elation when he feels the first kick of his child, and the tears that he tries to hide when you find out you will be having a son, you realise that it's all worth it.

Dean likes to lay on the bed and put his ear up to your belly and whisper sweet nothings to his son. There's no question what the baby will be called. You suggested Sam even before Dean.

*********

Your water breaks in the middle of the night, and you wake Dean as the first contraction hits. "My water just broke."

Dean's eyes light up with excitement and he quickly jumps from the bed and begins pulling on his clothes. You moan slightly as the contraction continues. Dean grabs the hospital bag that you packed a few days ago and slings it over his shoulder. 

"Okay, here we go," He helps you out of bed and walks with your arm on his shoulder to the Impala. 

He drives thirty miles over the speed limit and gets to the hospital in record time. When they get you to a room, the doctors make him go outside for a moment while they complete an exam. He doesn't stop pacing and the nurses stare at him.

The time comes to push, and you hold onto Dean's hand with a vice grip. The pain is agonising, but Dean strokes your hair and gives you words of encouragement. 

The moment you hear the wail, you start crying. They place the infant, your son, Sam, on your chest and you touch him for the first time. "Oh my God." You hear Dean say, his voice thick with emotion.

He leans his head next to yours and looks at the baby, his baby, with you. 

"Heya, Sammy."


End file.
